The Seemingly Perfect Crime
by Alive At Last
Summary: The CSI team face a possible suicide, but Mac thinks there's something more.
1. Chapter 1

**A Seemingly-Perfect Crime  
****Summary: **Mac is puzzled by the lack of evidence and how well this crime was played.  
**A/N: **Is Danny a blond or a brunette? I can't tell, cause in some light, he looks a brunette, and in other he looks like a blond. Well, I referenced him as a blond, so if I'm wrong, correct me. First CSI: NY fic.

* * *

The room was dark and still. Slowly a black figure entered from the kitchen with a pair of gloves on and a chef's knife in the palm of the person's right hand. The black figure was short, and walked slowly towards the target. A man was fanned out on the couch, snoring and holding the neck of a bourbon bottle in his fist. He was in his mid-thirties, stocky in build, and an alcoholic.

Now the black figure was at the head of the man, holding the chef's knife steady. It was brought down to his neck and was laid there. The figure dropped it and grabbed the drunk's hand, wrapping it around the handle of the knife. The man was still asleep. Slowly the figure guided the blade flush against his exposed neck, and with steady pressure, the knife was driven into his skin, slicing the flesh, bringing out the red liquid like a steady stream. The man was awake now, but it was too late to react. He grew limp, eyes wide and face paling.

When murderer was sure the deed was done, the knife slid out, resting now on the dead man's chest, and left. Swiftly, the figure retreated out of the house.

----------

"Victim's name was Chad Lewis, thirty-seven, six feet one inch."

Mac stood by the couch with a camera hanging around his neck as he pulled on his gloves. "The knife the murder weapon?" he asked, looking at the body.

"That's what we think. His wallet, keys, cigarettes, all possessions are accounted for."

"And the neighbors?"

"None were home at the time."

"Thank you. I'll handle it from here."

The officer left, leaving Mac with the body until his team arrived. Looking at the man, he saw nothing that led him to believe it was a murder. The front door opened revealing Danny, looking over at Mac. "Hey, Mac," he offered. Mac nodded, then waved him over. Danny did as was instructed. When he was beside the older man, Mac looked up at him.

"Tell me what you see."

Danny looked at the body, quiet for a moment. "Weapon on the body, eyes open, pale skin… Suicide?"

"All the evidence points to that. But we'll wait till we process the scene. Look around."

Danny did so. He looked at the windows and doors, through to the kitchen, and on the floor. "No sign of forced entry. If it was a murder, it would be someone who lived here, or someone with a key."

"Or the door could be unlocked."

"That too." He grew silent again. "Want me to process the scene?"

"I'll go interview our witness."

Mac made his exit, leaving Danny to process the scene alone. Danny looked at the body, saying, "I don't suppose you could tell me what happened." He got no answer. "I didn't think so."

Mac looked around, watching the crowd intently. He was looking for anyone with sympathy for the man. There was a man about the age of the victim looking paranoid with a wondering stare. He couldn't be the murderer; most likely a friend. Not many people were sorrowful; most of the faces he saw were relieved or glad about his death, which alluded to many enemies.

After a while, Mac walked off, weaving through the officers to get to the girl. As he got closer, he noticed a few round bruises lining her arms and shoulders, and there were probably more under her clothing. By that time, he was in front of her, telling the other officer that he could go. The girl, Jamie, looked up at Mac with a bored look. "When can I go, officer…" She stopped for his name, looking at him to find a nametag.

"Taylor. Mac Taylor. You can leave after we're done here."

He took a moment to look her over. The bruises were fresh. Her hair was wet, as if she took a shower, and she looked as if she held no remorse for the man's death. "Miss Martin, when did you find the body?" he asked.

"After I got home from a friend's house."

"At what time?" he pressed, scribbling on the piece of paper.

"Um, three maybe. I don't have a watch." Her gray eyes met Mac's green ones. "You've got pretty eyes, Mr. Taylor," she said softly.

Mac cracked a small smile. "Thank you, Miss Martin, but I need you to stick to the subject. Why do you have those bruises on your arms, Miss Martin?" he asked, pointing a finger at one of them. She looked down, blonde hair falling over her eyes, then she looked back up.

"Paintballing. I always go with my friend, Matt."

"You got hit pretty bad."

"This was what I was wearing. Well, not this shirt, but one like this."

Mac nodded. "And where are your clothes you paintballed in?"

"In Matt's washer. I can't leave my clothes like that."

"Where is Matt right now?"

Jamie looked irritated. "At his house. Should be here soon if you want to talk to him too."

"Yes, I would like that just fine." He paused. "You don't seem too sorry about his death," he commented. Jamie shrugged.

"I never liked the guy. He was an ass, an alcoholic, a drunk… I'm glad he's dead."

Mac looked at the young girl. She spoke again, "If you ever catch the guy who killed him, if someone did kill him, tell them I say thanks." She popped out a Kool and lit it, inhaling.

"And your mother?" he asked.

"Hospital."

"Why?"

"Ask the dead guy, he's the one who put her there."

On the paper, Mac wrote and underlined the word _motive_.

A motorcycle pulled up and a boy, straddling the cycle, shut it off and removed his helmet. Mac looked at him, then over at Jamie, who was finishing the cigarette. "Is that Matt?" he asked her, who smiled and nodded.

"That's him," she spoke through the smoke. Taking another hit, she leaned over to him and blew a smoke ring in his face. "Want a puff?" she asked, holding it out. Mac waved it off, saying a, "No thanks."

The boy was making his way to the crime tape with a confused look on his face. He looked over at Jamie, then hollered, "What's goin' on, Jamie?"

Mac walked over to him, taking a glance at him. He had short, black hair, spiked and wet. On his arms were the same bruises as Jamie wore. The boy looked to be no more than eighteen. "Matt?" Mac asked, flipping to a new page.

"Yeah?" the boy answered with an unsure look. "Who are you? What's going on here?"

"Detective Mac Taylor. You were the one paintballing with Miss Martin?" he asked. "I'll need your last name, sir."

"Matthew Rodriguez. Yeah, I went with her. So what?"

"And you're familiar with Chad Lewis?"

"The guy is an ass. What does he have to do with this? What _is_ this?"

"Mr. Lewis has been found dead with his throat slashed. We're trying to figure out if it was suicide or murder."

Matt stopped for a moment, thinking. "You… are you accusing me? Or Jamie? We didn't do this, Detective. All day we were out at the paintball range."

Mac wrote down on the paper. "Do you have anyone to account for you two being at the range?"

"The leader, Leo Turner."

"Thank you."

Jamie walked over to Matt, who still looked confused. They shared a hug, Jamie giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. Mac turned, flipping the notebook shut, and made his way into the house. Danny snapped a picture of the body and Sheldon, who had slipped in while Mac was interviewing the witness, was examining the wound and the bloody knife. Mac was beside Danny before he spoke up.

"That knife our murder weapon?"

Sheldon looked up at Mac. "Yeah. Clean cut, straight through. No hesitation. Severed the cricoid and thyroid gland."

"Obviously it was our COD. Bag the knife. I'll go check the kitchen."

Mac turned, grabbing his case from the wall, and proceeded to the kitchen. He glanced around, grabbing his camera. Everything seemed to be in order, nothing unusual. He walked to the counter where a knife rack sat. There was a knife missing; the hole was about the size of the chef's knife found on the body, and the handles of the other knives corresponded with the murder weapon. Mac took a picture of the set.

In the sink was a rag, wet, but no dishes were in the drying rack on the counter. He reached out and touched it, feeling the heat through his latex glove. The rag was cool to the touch. After taking the rag from the sink, Mac turned on the water and let his hand sit under the flow. It grew hot almost immediately.

Danny walked in, looking at Mac curiously. "What are you doing, Mac?"

The older CSI turned his head, turning off the water as he did so. "There's a knife rack with knives similar with our murder weapon. The chef's knife is missing from the set."

Danny looked at the knives. "So the murderer, if there is one, walked in to the kitchen, grabbed a knife from the rack, and proceeded to murder our victim."

Mac held up the rag he found. "This rag was in the sink, wet and cool. When I turned the water on, it went hot as soon as I put my hand under."

"Our murderer grabbed a rag and held it as a barrier between his or her hand and the handle of the knife. Then rinsed it with hot water to get rid of the blood."

The blond walked to his superior, who had waved him over, and looked at the rag. Mac spread the rag over his fingers. "Even if the murderer washed it, wouldn't there be _some_ blood on it?"

"Unless you work fast with it."

Mac opened his case, pulling out a swab. He ran the swab on the inside of the drain and proceeded with the test. Danny watched Mac go through the blood test silently, watching as the swab remained white. "No blood," he said.

"Any new theories?" Mac asked with a slight grin.

"Suicide?"

"New theories, Danny. Suicide was theory one."

"Well… I don't know."

Mac looked at Danny. "Murderer walks in, grabs the rag to wipe the knife of previous prints, wore gloves, maybe, kills Chad, and leaves the knife there."

"Plausible…"

Mac sighed and looked around. "If there is a killer, he or she didn't give us much of a lead to go on. Barely any evidence."

"A perfect crime?" Danny offered.

"Nothing is perfect."


	2. Chapter 2

**A Seemingly-Perfect Crime  
****Summary: **Mac is puzzled by the lack of evidence and how well this crime was played.  
**A/N:** Slightly shorter chapter, but hopefully up to par. See if you can find the shout-out to CSI: Vegas hidden in here.

* * *

Autopsy. On the table laid Chad Lewis, chest cut open exposing the inner organs. Sid Hammerback stood over the corpse, looking down with gloved hands covered in rich, red blood. The man's lungs were black, his liver in horrible condition, everything abnormally colored. He was a drinker, a smoker, did a few drugs here and there. Sid couldn't help but think that he was in a better place then living in a body of this condition. There were no bullets or other fresh wounds; scars were present on his body, some a few days old, others a few years.

Sid looked at the face of the thirty-seven year old man. His skin sagged from the smoke, a light beard covered his face, gray hair was mixed with brown, making it look peppery, and his nose was broken a time or two from the look of it. If this man never drank or smoked, Sid thought to himself, he would have been a good looking man.

Mac walked in, pulling gloves on his hands as he did. Sid glanced up, then looked back. When the ex-marine was beside the body, he stated casually, "Tell me something I don't know."

Sid grinned. "Black lung. Many years of smoking, probably most of his life. Second hand smoke for some, first hand for the rest. Liver damage from excessive drinking. Been drinking for as long as he had smoked, first hand, at least."

Mac looked at the body with no expression. "Anything unusual on the body upon examination?" he asked.

"None. Slightly yellow tinted fingers support the smoking theory. Scars suggest a rough life, possibly enemies. One on his temple looks a few days old. No fresher ones. No bullet scars."

"So no matter how bad he pissed people off, no one pulled a gun."

"Might of pissed people off, but had the respect not to kill. No scars on the chest when I looked."

The black-haired man sighed, aggravated at the lack of evidence he was faced with. "If this was a murder, it was an in and out; no remorse."

"Sounds like the girl."

"We'll have to talk to the mother."

----------

Danny knocked his knuckles on the white hospital door three times and waited. Beside him stood Stella, pulling at her jacket slightly. After a moment or two of waiting, they heard an answer, sounding like it was giving them permission to enter. Stella opened the door and walked in before Danny, who followed close behind, closing the door as he walked in.

There was a woman laying on the white bed, a tray of food sitting on the table that swung over the bed, and a few vases of flowers lining the window sill. Stella gave a smile, which was returned full fold.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Martin. I'm Detective Stella Bonasera; this is Detective Danny Messer."

"Good afternoon, officers. I'm Julie Martin. What can I do for you?" She was probably about the same age as their victim, in the thirties. She had bright blonde hair, like her daughter, and deep brown eyes. Her face was soft, but bruised with a gauze pad on her left cheek. Julie's left arm was in a sling, and her hand was red and scratched.

"We're here on official business, Ms. Martin. Has anyone informed you of what happened this morning?" Danny asked softly. Julie shook her head no, saying a quiet, 'No.' Stella picked up from there.

"Your daughter found the body of Chad Lewis on your couch with his neck slashed open."

Julie had a skeptical look for a moment, unbelieving. Then, when the CSI's faces didn't falter, her brown eyes grew and she gasped, pulling her right hand to her mouth. Her body began to quiver. "He's…?" She trailed off. "Dead?"

Danny nodded, and the woman on the bed broke out in a hard sob, gasping and cringing, her body quivering. Stella and Danny exchanged looks while the woman broke down completely.

Soon Julie quieted, occasional sniffles escaping her mouth. She met a gaze with Danny. "He can't be…"

"I'm sorry ma'am. We were wondering if you would know anyone who would have a grudge or a death wish against him." Danny kept his voice soft as he spoke.

"I… Something like this happened earlier in the year and I lost a few friends because I took him back. But they wouldn't… want to kill him."

"Is there anyone…" Stella pushed.

"No… no one."

Danny pointed to a couple of chairs, and Julie nodded. He led Stella to the first one, then took another for himself, sitting on the edge and leaning towards the woman. "Your daughter, Jamie, seemed unremorseful at his death."

Julie gave a short nod. "Yes… Jamie never liked him after his constant yelling and arguing, especially after the first time he had beaten me."

"Does Jamie have a history of anger issues or violent behavior?" asked Stella, pushing a strand of hair from her eyes and resting her arms on her knees.

Julie was quiet for a while before nodding. "She has been suspended for a few fights. She… My daughter worries me. She's too wild."

"Do you know of any… drugs Jamie might be taking, like cocaine? Anything to make her angry like you say?" Danny asked.

"She smokes cigarettes; that's about it. I don't know of any other drugs."

"So your daughter has always been this angry?"

"Ever since I let Chad move in with us."

Stella looked at Danny, who glanced back at her. The look on Stella's face tells him that they have enough information. She looked at Julie with a light smile. "Thank you, Ms. Martin. I think we have enough information."

The young woman returned the smile. "Sure." But it faded. "Thank you, Detectives, for telling me about…" She trailed off, looking down and closing her eyes. Stella stood, walking to the woman, and placed a hand on her back.

"Don't worry. We'll make sure his killer gets what they deserve."

----------

Danny walked down the hallway of the CSI section of the NYPD, a bag in his hand and whistling a light tune. It was a new song out, but he didn't know the name; he had just heard it on the radio and had it stuck in his head. As he turned the corner, his shoulder bumped into Mac's, who narrowed his eyes for a split second, then looked at the younger man. They stopped, facing each other.

"What did you and Stella get from the mother?" Mac asked.

"Some stuff about the daughter. What else?"

"Tell me some information, Danny."

Danny grinned. "Well the daughter has a history of violence that began after the mother's first beating by our dead guy."

Mac gave an angry sigh, shifting on his feet for a moment. "Every action, everything we're being told is pointing to the girl. But our evidence doesn't point where we want it to. Evidence points to suicide, words point to murder."

"That's why we do what we do, to get to the whole truth."

Mac cocked his brow at the younger man, in confusion, then he smiled and patted Danny on the shoulder.

"Where are you headed?" asked Mac.

"To the lab to collect prints from the knife."

"Okay, I'll take Flack to the paintball range and ask a few questions about the kids being there or not. The range is called Eye of the Tiger, in Manhattan. It's new."

"Have fun with the guns. Don't get shot."

Mac turned, then stopped when he remembered something. "Hey, the handle of the knife is black, right?"

Danny looked at him, then nodded, with a confused, "Yeah."

"In the cabinet, on the third shelf from the top, should be a small plastic tin labeled 'Gil'. Inside should be an orange powder. You can use some of that for your prints."

"'Gil?' Why is it labeled 'Gil'?"

"A friend down in Nevada gave it to me. It's some good stuff. Try not to use a lot of it." Mac winked before turning and walking off. Danny smiled and made his way towards the lab.

Danny pulled on a lab coat, after setting the bag on the table, and buttoned it. Then he walked to the cabinet and opened it. Inside was surely, on the third shelf, a tin of orange powder labeled 'Gil', just where Mac told him it was. He took it and closed the cabinet after him. Back at the table, Danny pulled on a pair of gloves from a box on the table and grabbed the bag. He pulled the knife from the brown bag, then pulled it from the plastic bag covering it with Evidence written on it.

He laid it on the table, then picked up the orange powder. It opened easily; Danny placed it carefully on the table and took a brush. After swirling the bristles in the powder, he knocked it off lightly, then brought it to the knife. He held the knife by the blade between three fingers and began brushing the black handle.

When the handle was coated in the orange powder, he noticed how easily he found the prints. Danny lifted the prints carefully from the blade, and when it was put against the black paper backing, he noticed it formed a palm print and fingers. He sighed, putting the lifted prints on the table in front of him. "Suicide," he whispered, and after he replaced the knife, he took the latex gloves from his hands and tossed them angrily at the trash can. They landed beside it on the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

**A Seemingly-Perfect Crime  
****Summary: **Mac is puzzled by the lack of evidence and how well this crime was played.  
**A/N: **A little SMacked in this chapter because I love that pairing. And for an extra challenge, try to pick out the Gary Sinise character I added in(name only!).

* * *

Paint covered every obstacle placed in the players ways. It was set up on a high school football field during a couple weeks in the summer. It was bright; the whole stage, every nook and cranny, could be seen with the proper distance. Players were on it now, running around, some wearing considerably long clothing for protection, and the other more daring ones wore what looked like was next to nothing.

Mac stood in the stands with Don Flack by his side; they watched the players, listened to their cries of triumph or wails of pain, displeasured grunts. Flack snickered watching them, enjoying the show. Mac stood gazing at the sidelines, watching for who was organizing this event, Leo Turner.

An air-horn was blown by a tall bald man, most likely signaling the end of the round. The players began spreading out, off of the field. "Let's get down there," Mac said to Flack, who nodded and walked down the benches; Mac preferred the stairs.

The two officers were on the astro-turf field now, looking out for the bald man they saw a few minutes ago. Once they spotted him, Flack approached him. He tapped the large man on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, Leo Turner?" Flack asked. The bald man nodded, sizing them up with a look.

"Can I help you two officers?" he asked in a husky voice. Probably a smoker, Mac thought.

"Yes, we think you can. I'm Detective Don Flack, this is Detective Mac Taylor. We're investigating a recent murder."

"Yeah?"

Mac pulled a 5x8 from a tan folder, showing it to Leo. "Do you know this man? Chad Lewis?"

Leo stared at the photo for a moment, then shook his head. "I heard of the guy though. Little girl around here always talks about a 'Chad Lewis' to her friend. I just happened to overhear his name."

"Well, he's dead," Flack said. "We want you to account for a couple of kids who claimed were paintballing when this guy was murdered."

"Who the kids?"

"Jamie Martin and Matt Rodriguez?" Mac offered. For a moment the man pondered about the names before giving a curt nod, then crossing his arms over his chest.

"They're always here."

"Do you remember if they were here yesterday? Around the time of three and six PM?" Flack asked

Leo gave another curt nod, as if to say he was finished. "Yeah, they were here. From noon to five."

Mac took his nod as a hint. "Thank you."

He sneered before walking away from the officers. Flack gave a small grin at Mac, who scoffed with a frown. "Hey, at least we have a time period."

"But that doesn't help. This kid, this _girl_, is playing everything to her advantage." He paused with an exasperated look. "I know this girl did this and I will not rest until this is over. I will give her justice for the first time in her life."

----------

With a cup of coffee in each hand and a folder under her right arm, Stella walked into Mac's office where Mac had his feet propped up on his desk, a folder laying across his chest, and head laid back, getting the sleep he greatly needed. Stella chuckled and set the cups on an empty place on the desk, then pulled the folder from under her arm and put it next to Mac's shoes. She walked around the desk, standing over her boss who gave a small, almost inaudible snore, making her laugh. After a few moments of gazing down at the sleeping man, she trailed her fingertips along the side of his cheek, down his jaw line. Mac stirred, groaning, his eyeballs rolling under the lids. His eyes opened; he looked up at Stella who gave him a warm smile. The corners of his mouths turned up ever-so-slightly.

"Hey," he said sleepily. His feet dropped to the floor and he rolled his head on his shoulders. Then he took the folder from his chest and found a place for it on the desk.

"After this case is over, you're going home." Her fingertips ran on his jaw line again as she said this. She tapped her forefinger a couple of time before taking her hand back and going for the cups of coffee. Stella handed one to Mac, who took it and nursed it. Then he looked at his watch.

"I've been asleep for two hours and no one woke me?" His voice was mildly irritated.

Stella perched herself on the corner of his desk. "Lindsay had come earlier to give you something, but she said you were dead to the world. She didn't have the heart to wake you." She paused with a sly grin. "You were snoring."

Mac ignored that. "What did she want to give me?"

Stella grabbed the folder she had laid on the desk and handed it to him. He opened it and glanced at it for a moment, his face hardening. "Only one set of prints on the knife. And it's our vic's." He looked disappointed. Stella gave him a sympathetic look. "Can we get nothing on the girl?" Mac asked.

"I'm afraid not."

Mac sipped his coffee tenderly. "This is the only time I can think of when the evidence let me down…" he said softly into the paper cup. Stella frowned.

"Don't worry about it, Mac."

Mac leaned back in his chair, his fist resting just above his mouth, thinking. "What haven't we looked into? What did we miss?"

"Well," began Stella, beginning to list out on her fingers, "we talked to our suspect and her friend Matt. We've talked to the mother. Talked to the paintball field director."

"Took the little evidence," Mac added, "that was left for us."

Then Mac remembered…

_There was a man about the age of the victim looking paranoid with a wondering stare._

Slowly he sat up. "Did we ever talk to people who knew the victim? Anyone at all? Besides the suspect and the mother?"

Stella sensed where this was going. "No, we didn't."

"We didn't talk to anyone at his work?"

"No."

Mac jumped up. "We need to bring them in for questioning."

----------

Within an hour, there were five men standing in the hallway. They were the only men who interacted with the victim on his job site. Mac immediately noticed the man from the other day, standing stiff and looking scared; he was last in the line. Danny leaned against the wall with a clipboard and a tape recorder, waiting for Mac. When he saw him, Danny gave a smile and jerked his head towards the guys.

"Which one do you want first?" he asked.

"Start at the beginning of the line." He pointed at the first man. "You. You're first."

The man pushed off of the wall and walked through the open door Danny was now holding. Mac followed, trailed by Danny, who shut the door behind them.

"What's your name?" Mac asked as he took a seat.

"Dewan Howard."

"So, Mr. Howard, how well did you know Chad Lewis?"

Dewan leaned in his seat. "Not very well. He came to work drunk sometimes, which is dangerous for construction if you ask me. I've driven the guy home before cause he was too drunk to walk. It was a miracle that he got there safely."

"Did you hold any grudge against him or anything? Did he upset you in any way?"

The man rubbed his chin. "Nope. Each time I drove him home, I took a ten from his wallet. Figured he owed me for lugging his drunk ass home. Never got caught."

Danny and Mac went through three men, who all said about the same thing about the victim. The fourth was next.

"Name?"

"Jay Powell."

"How well did you know the victim?"

"Not very. I tried not to interact with him. Kevin Dunne knew him best."

"Is he the next guy out there?" Jay nodded. "Did those two ever have a fight recently?" Danny asked.

Jay snickered, grinning. He leaned in. "Kevin is banging that girl Chad lived with. What's her name… Janine?"

"Jamie?" Mac offered.

"Yeah, that one. Well one day that Jamie girl was over at the site with Kevin. His hands were all over here, her hands were down his pants, and she was whispering in his ear, giggling. Then Kevin got a little paler and said something like, I can't do that. But she seduced him and he agreed."

Mac stood up straighter. "Did you hear what she asked him to do?"

"No, I was too far away. Then after that girl left, Kevin approached Chad and started telling him to stop seeing the girl's mother and leave the state. Chad got mad, yelled a little, and stormed off. Kevin yelled after him that he'd be sorry."

Danny and Mac exchanged looks. "And no one else saw this?" Danny asked.

"Nope. It was early, I had just gotten there. Chad and Kevin always get there early anyways."

Mac offered a hand. "Thank you, Mr. Powell. You were a great help."

Jay grinned, shook hands, and got up to leave. Once he was out, Danny smiled at Mac. "I think we got something."

"It's about time. Call him in."

Danny stuck his head out of the door, and in a moment, Kevin Dunne walked in, looking even more scared. Mac showed him a seat, which he took and clenched his hands together in a white knuckled grip.

"Mr. Dunne?" Danny offered. "That is your name, right? Kevin Dunne?"

"Y-yeah… Why am I here?"

"Just investigating." Danny smiled. "We hear you were good friends with Chad Lewis."

"Yeah… It's tragic what happened to him."

"We also hear you're in a relationship with Jamie Martin," Mac said. At this, the man's eyes grew wide.

"Who told you that?"

"Someone."

"Well you aren't going to tell her mother, are you?"

"We might, we might not." Mac tapped his hand on his thigh. "We need the truth. Why did Jamie approach you at work a couple of days before his death?"

Kevin grew quiet, pursing his lips. His hands slipped off of the table and into his lap.

Mac sneered. "If you talk, things might go much easier."

Kevin flinched.

"Kevin?" Danny pressed. "What did Jamie say to you?"

Finally he opened his mouth. "Me and Jamie have had… sex a few times in the past. She's told me about how she hated Chad with all her heart. So that day at work, she told me of her plan. Jamie put my arms around her and slid her hand down my jeans. She told me, 'I want you to kill Chad. I want him dead.'. I told her that I couldn't. That he was my friend. Then she dug her nail into me and hissed, 'Do it, or I'll kill _you_.'. There wasn't much I could do. So I told Chad to leave the state, to abandon Julie and to go on with his life. He snapped, yelled at me that I had to right to step in, and walked off. So I yelled after him, 'You'll be sorry.'."

Mac leaned on the table. "Did you kill Chad Lewis?"

At this point Kevin began to weep. "I walked in cause Jamie left the door open for me. I… I took a knife and went to him. He was d-drunk and sleeping… I took it and…" He stopped, bringing his hands to his face and sobbing. "I didn't want to… Jamie made me. She's ruthless…"

"You're telling me that Jamie, a seventeen year old girl, threatened you, a thirty-something year old grown man?" Mac asked.

"You don't know her!" Kevin yelled. Tears kept rolling down his cheeks. "She already tried to kill me once." He pulled the collar of his shirt down, which came to the top of his neck, revealing a thin scar across his lower neck. "She… she pulled a knife on me. I reported her, but the police just laughed!"

Mac sighed, walking around the table to Kevin. With a hand on his shoulder, he said, "I'm sorry, but you're under arrest for the murder of Chad Lewis. Please stand up."

Kevin, still sobbing, stood and positioned his hands behind his back. Mac slapped the cuffs on him while Danny went out to get the police. "I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry…" Kevin sobbed. A policeman walked in with Danny behind him and grabbed Kevin's forearm. The still sobbing Kevin gave no protest, walking willingly. But when he got to the door where Danny still stood, he jerked a little to get closer to him. With their faces close, Kevin whispered, almost hissed, "Please bring that bitch in… Please don't let her get away." The policeman shoved him violently, making him lurch forward with a gasp.

Once they were out of the room, Danny met eyes with Mac. Mac was smiling.


	4. Chapter 4

**A Seemingly-Perfect Crime  
****Summary: **Mac is puzzled by the lack of evidence and how well this crime was played.  
**A/N: **I tie things in a lot in my stories. The cat is based off of my cat who is a tabby/minx mix.  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI: NY, or the 3 Doors Down song "Citizen/Soldier" (in italics).

* * *

The knock rang through the house. Mac waited for a few moments before knocking again. Behind him waited Sheldon, looking anxious. Mac turned his head to look at Sheldon, who shrugged. His hand lowered to the doorknob and he gave it a turn. It moved generously under his grasp, freeing the door from the frame. The door swung into the house, banging against a table positioned to the left of the door. Mac rose his brows to Sheldon, who, again, shrugged. "Shall we?" Mac asked.

"Lets." He smiled. Mac strolled in with Sheldon behind him. The stale stench of death wasn't present anymore, and everything looked normal. There was a door that closed off the staircase, which Mac remembered was closed last time he was in the house. He had seen a cat roaming around the downstairs when he came for the body; when he got near it, it backed off and ran down to what he assumed was the basement. Sheldon peered up the staircase. He drew his gun and looked back at Mac, who also took his out.

Mac followed Sheldon up the stairs, where they heard a couple of birds chirping shrilly and a cat meowing softly. Sheldon turned the corner to the sounds of the animals, and stopped in his tracks. Mac, who was at the top of the stairs, pushed past Sheldon and gave a look.

The room was painted a dark, navy blue color with some symbol painted along the walls. Almost every object in the room was either black or white. But sitting in the middle of the room, beside the bed, was Jamie. Mac approached her slowly, gun pointed towards the floor. Her eyes were focused on the wall in front of her; the cat, a strangely marked black, gray, and white cat, was licking furiously at one of her wrists. It looked at Mac, mewed, then walked over and pawed at his shoe. Mac bent down, ran his hand over the cat, then batted it to the side, out of his way. Seeing begging to Mac was useless, it walked to Sheldon and began begging again. Sheldon picked the cat up and cradled it in his arms.

Jamie's eyes shot to Mac, then down at her wrists. They were slashed down from the top of her wrist to about mid-forearm. Deep. The knife was next to her thigh on the floor; it was a pocketknife. She looked back up. And smiled.

"He… he told… didn't he?" She blinked. "Kevin told…"

Mac pulled her hands together, applying pressure on the wounds with one hand and caressing her cheek with the other. Considering the blood, she did this only a few moments ago. "Hold on, we'll get help, Jamie," he assured. He turned to Sheldon, who still held the cat. "Call an ambulance, Sheldon!"

The man nodded; supporting the cat in one arm, he pulled out his phone and dialed. Mac turned his attention back to Jamie. "Hold on, Jamie. Your mother can't loose both of the people she loves… Hold on…"

Jamie leaned into Mac's touch. "I-it's too late, Mac. Too late…" Then she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to the older man's. When she pulled away and tilted back on the bed, her head fell to the side and laid lifeless. Mac shook her gently.

"Jamie, don't fall asleep. Stay with me." He shook her again. She did nothing. Mac noticed her face slowly loosing color. He brought his fingers up to her neck, searching a pulse. For a moment he held his fingers there. Then, he sighed and let his fingers drop to the floor. His other hand released her wrists.

Sheldon gave a sigh behind him, and the cat meowed. "You did all you could, Mac," he tried.

Mac angrily wiped his hand together. The lifeless body stared up at Mac, who looked from it and stood up, holding his hands out. He looked over at Sheldon. "The bathroom right there?" he asked. "I don't really want this blood on me."

Sheldon looked to his right, at the open door. He nodded. "Yeah, that's a bathroom."

Mac shoved past and went into the bathroom. He used his wrist to turn the water on, then he held his hand under. Once it was hot, he rubbed both together under the flow and cleaned under his nails. He turned the water off and shook it hands, then used some toilet paper to dry them. Sheldon was standing in the doorway when Mac turned back. He held his now clean hands out for the cat. "You can go downstairs and wait for the ambulance. I'll keep the cat."

The cat was passed from Sheldon to Mac, and Sheldon turned and descended the stairs. Mac ran his fingers down the cat's fur. The cat purred, low and rumbling. It snuggled into Mac's arm, who in turn looked down at it and sighed. "Sometimes I wish animals could talk."

The birds across the room had stopped chirping and were looking intently at the body.

----------

Mac still had the cat as he was walking through the CSI department. Lindsay, who was walking the opposite direction, smiled at him. "Got attached?" she asked. She reached out and petted it. "I've never seen a cat like this before."

"It was at Jamie Martin's home and it would of only gotten in the way of the body. I tried putting it in their basement but it wouldn't allow that."

Lindsay scanned her eyes down the cat; it's tail was only about three inches long and was standing up. "He's a boy, Mac. Looks like a… minx from the tail, but a tabby from the markings. Maybe a mix?"

Mac smiled. "You sure know your cats."

Lindsay returned the smile and walked off. Mac continued to his office where he released the cat. The cat roamed the office for a while. After a while of roaming and inspecting, it jumped in Mac's chair and curled in a ball.

There was a knock at the door; Stella walked in and noticed the cat. "Either you stole it, or there's a better reason there is a cat in your chair."

"Got in the way at Jamie Martin's house."

Stella gave a small frown. "I heard about that. It's horrible." She met his eyes. "Are you okay, Mac?" she asked, sympathetically.

Mac shrugged. "I hate seeing kids in their prime doing that to themselves. Hate hearing about a kid who jumped off a bridge or over-dosed, or cut their wrists." His eyes were passionate. Stella approached him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a friendly hug.

"It's okay, Mac. Don't beat yourself up over this. You didn't make Jamie do this."

Mac slowly accepted the hug, putting one of his arms around her waist. They broke after a hesitation and looked at each other. Stella kissed Mac's cheek, then turned and left. From his chair, the cat meowed.

"I know," Mac answered.

----------

With a black, oddly shaped bag on his back, Mac walked in the bar dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, sleeves rolled up. He took a seat at the bar, ordered a drink, and put the black bag on the floor between his legs. It was open mic night, and this was something he needed at this moment. The person on stage was finishing up, from what he could tell. The drink was placed in front of him. Mac picked it up and sipped it.

The girl on stage gave a bow; Mac hadn't really listened to her, but applauded anyways. She exited the stage and walked up to the bar, ordering a beer and taking a seat. The young lady flashed Mac a smile. Then she glanced at his bag.

"Guitar or bass?" she asked. Mac looked down for a moment at the bag.

"Bass," he responded.

A hand was held out to him, and he took it. "Carmine."

"Mac."

"Well, Mac, if you're going to play, you ought to get up there. No one is there."

The older man glanced at the stage. "I think I will."

"Will you be singing?"

"Just playing. I don't sing."

"Anyone can sing."

Mac gave a half-felt grin before unzipping the bag. He took it out and laid the bag on the chair he was sitting in previously. Then, Mac walked on stage, taking the stool. For a moment he messed with his bass guitar, then began playing.

While he played through the intro, another man joined him on stage, pulling out a guitar. He nodded at Mac and began playing along. Then, the man began to sing.

"_Beyond the boundaries of your city's lights; stand the heroes waiting for your cries. So many times you did not bring this on yourself. When that moment finally comes, I'll be there to help_."

Whilst the man sung, Carmine made her way back to stage and joined.

"_On that day when you need your brothers and sisters to care, I'll be right here. Citizen soldiers holding the light for the ones that we guide from the dark of despair. Standing on guard for the ones that we sheltered, we'll always be ready because we will always be there_.

"_When there are people crying in the streets; when they're starving for a meal to eat; when they simply need a place to make their beds, right here underneath my wing, you can rest your head._

"_On that day when you need your brothers and sisters to care, I'll be right here! Citizen soldiers holding the light for the ones that we guide from the dark of despair. Standing on guard for the ones that we sheltered, we'll always be ready because we will always be there._

"_Hope and pray that you'll never need me, but rest assured I will not let you down. I'll walk beside you but you may not see me; the strongest among you may not wear a crown._

"_On that day when you need your brothers and sisters to care, I'll be right here! On that day when you don't have the strength for the burden you bear, I'll be right here! Citizen soldiers holding the light for the ones that we guide from the dark of despair. Standing on guard for the ones that we sheltered, we'll always be ready because we will always be there._"

Mac smiled broadly. There was something about playing that just freed him of everything around him. His fingers moved, head bobbed, and mind wandered. At that moment, he could forget about his job and what come with it. At that moment, he was free.

And if there was a time Mac needed to be free the most, it was now.

_**End**_


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